Christmas Wrapping
by So-crates Johnson
Summary: A fluffy (and belated) holiday one-shot based on "Christmas Wrapping" by the Waitresses. Happy holidays!


_So I've been listening to the Kidz Bop version of "Christmas Wrapping" (which is surprisingly not terrible) on repeat in the car for pretty much the entire month of December. And this idea just kind of popped into my head after the 3,476th listen. I know it's a little late, but I figured the Christmas season doesn't _really _end until the trees and lights come down, right?_

* * *

"Come on, Elsa, pick up," Belle mutters into her phone, which is currently lodged between her ear and her shoulder. In one hand, she's holding a little package labeled "Deluxe Alpine Ski Tuning Kit," and in the other is a similar package labeled "Tune and Wax Starter Kit." For the life of her, she can't make out the difference between the two; aside from the fact that one is about twenty bucks more expensive than the other, they look pretty much the same. And ultimately, her cry for help goes unanswered. Belle groans in frustration when Elsa's voicemail picks up after a few more rings, and she nearly fumbles everything as she tries to reach the button to end the call.

"Do you need help, miss?"

Belle looks up, and her breath momentarily catches when she finds herself face to face with maybe the most handsome guy she's ever met. His deep blue eyes are looking at her with polite concern, and for a second or two, she actually forgets where she is and what she's doing. "I - do you work here?" she finally manages to stammer out, and immediately wants to cringe. Of_ course_ he doesn't work here. With a bone structure like that, he's probably a model or an actor or something.

But he smiles. It's an easy smile, and she discovers that she likes it almost as much as she likes his eyes. "No, I just shop here a lot."

"You must like to ski," says Belle, and, again, she wants to smack herself for not being able to contribute something more intelligent to the conversation.

"Been doing it for almost as long as I've been walking. Do you ski?" he asks, looking at the packages in her hands. "Or are you a snowboarder?"

"Oh, um, neither," Belle admits with a rueful laugh. "But my friends invited me up to their ski house in Vermont for a Galentine's weekend, and I didn't want to show up unprepared."

One of the guy's eyebrows twitches up. "_Galentine's_?"

"You know," says Belle. "When you celebrate Valentine's Day - or in this case, weekend - with all your single girlfriends because none of you have dates?"

This time, both eyebrows shoot up, just a little. "_Oh_. Well, if this is your first time, then I wouldn't waste your money on these," he says, gently taking the Swix kits from her hands. "You'll probably be renting your skis and boots on the mountain right?"

"That was the plan," says Belle, and he nods.

"Then they'll tune all your gear for you there. And these kits are overpriced anyway. But you probably _will_ want a good, breathable base layer - and a mid layer too, if you're going up to Vermont. Some socks, some gloves, and maybe your own set of goggles - do you have goggles yet?" he asks, peering into the basket at her feet.

"Uh...could you repeat all of that?" Belle asks, frantically trying to make a mental list of all of the items he's just rattled off.

"Do you want some help with your shopping?" he asks, smiling again, and this time Belle can't help but smile back.

"Are you sure you wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all," he says.

"Then help would be _great_."

Thirty minutes later, Belle leaves the shop fully stocked for her first ever ski weekend. This little shopping excursion has set her back a cool $178.50 (hey, Manhattan ain't cheap, and this is the only ski shop in the city); however, she also leaves with the cute guy's name (Adam) and phone number, so all in all, it seems well worth it. As it turns out, Adam is just as smart as he is cute; he's not a model _or_ an actor, but a 1L at Fordham Law. And he lives in the East Village, not too far from Belle's dorm at NYU. He helps her carry her bags to the subway, and they make tentative plans to meet for lunch after Belle gets back from her trip. As she trudges along Broadway's slush-covered sidewalks, she wonders whether this agreement somehow violates the Galentine's code, if there is such a thing. Since she won't be seeing him again until _after_ Valentine's Day, she decides that it doesn't.

* * *

Belle glances up from her dog-eared copy of _The Iliad_ when she hears a chime go off. But the load of laundry she's been waiting on is still tumbling round and round in the dryer, so it isn't that. She hears the sound again and realizes that it's coming from her phone. She reaches into the bag that's tucked beneath her uncomfortable plastic chair (they_ really_ must not want people lingering in the communal laundry room) and pulls out an iPhone that's about three generations out of date. The text messaging icon is showing that she has a new message.

_Hi there, how was your ski trip?_

It's Adam. She feels her face break into a grin. _Great!_ she responds._ I got through the whole weekend without any frostbite or broken bones. And I even managed to attempt a blue trail on our last day._

_So you rode the lifts then?_

_I did! _Belle writes back._ And you were right, they weren't nearly as scary as I thought they would be. I actually kind of enjoyed the ride, maybe more than the actual skiing! Thanks again for all of the advice._

_Glad to help_, says Adam, and he follows this with a thumbs up emoji. And then,_ I'd love to hear more about your trip. Any chance you want to meet for lunch on Thursday? My afternoon class got cancelled. I can meet you somewhere near NYU?_

_I can't Thursday_, Belle writes back, feeling deeply disappointed._ I'm sorry. I have to meet with a group from my history class. We have a project due end of next week. Are you free the week after St. Patrick's Day? My spring break starts on the 21st. _

_So does mine_, says Adam._ But I have a 6am flight to Mexico the next morning._

_Mexico? Nice. Well, maybe after you get back then?_

_Definitely. I'll check in with you after break._

_Sounds great. Enjoy your trip!_

The dryer does go off then, and Belle scrambles to unload her laundry before any impatient coeds decide to do it for her.

* * *

Belle is leaning over the pedestal sink, peering into the bathroom mirror as she carefully dabs aloe along the bridge of her nose. She winces when she reaches the tip, which has just begun to peel. _It's SPF 100 for you from now on, girl_. Suddenly, her phone rings from the kitchen - she has an actual _kitchen_ now, having recently traded her dorm for a studio in Alphabet City that's only slightly larger. Grabbing a face towel, she pads over to the counter where her phone is charging and is surprised to see Adam's name flashing on the screen. They never did manage to sort out their schedules for that lunch date back in the spring. Curiously, she wipes her hands on the towel and hits answer.

"Adam, hi."

"Hey, Belle. I'm so sorry I sort of fell out of touch over the last few weeks. I got really bogged down with finals, and then the writing competition for the journals started up a few days later, and that ended up being way more intense than I expected it to be. I think I slept for almost an entire week once everything was finally over with." Belle thinks that an entire week might not have been enough time; he still sounds tired.

"That's okay," she says. "I can relate. How do you think you did?"

"Well I won't get my grades for a few more weeks, but I did get onto the Urban Law Journal, which was my first choice. So I'm happy about that."

"That's wonderful! Congratulations, Adam."

"Thanks," he says. "And congratulations on _your_ graduation. Have you started your job yet?"

"I did. In fact, I just got my first paycheck last week!"

"That's great! And you like it so far?"

"Well, the hours are a little longer than I expected," says Belle. "But I like the work itself, and my boss is nice."

"They don't have you working weekends, do they?"

"No. Or at least, not yet," Belle adds as an afterthought, hoping it doesn't turn out to be the case. "Why?"

"I was wondering if you're free on Saturday? My parents' boat is docked over at the marina by Liberty State Park. I was thinking of taking it out for a spin around the island this weekend with some of my friends. Do you want to come? It'll require a quick trip to Jersey" - she can't see the face he's making as he says this, but she can hear it - "but I promise it'll be worth it."

Belle groans. _Why_ does their timing always seem to be so terrible? "I would_ love_ to go out on your boat with you, Adam, but I'm housebound this weekend. Doctor's orders, unfortunately."

"Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine. But my friend Ariel dragged me out to Coney Island last weekend for the Mermaid Parade, and I ended up getting a pretty wicked sunburn. My skin's still a bit raw, so I have to minimize my sun exposure for a few days." Spending all day outside on the water would definitely _not_ be a good idea at the moment.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Does it still hurt?"

"A little," Belle admits.

"Well...maybe we could stay in? You wanna come over to my place and rent a few movies or something instead?"

She almost agrees. An afternoon spent watching movies with Adam sounds pretty great. But she just can't bring herself to let him to ditch his friends on _her_ account. "That's sweet of you to offer. But I don't want you to go changing all of your plans around just for me. It sounds like you've had a stressful couple of weeks. You deserve to go have some fun with your friends."

"Are you sure?"

The obvious disappointment in his voice almost causes her to reconsider. But then she sneaks another glance in the mirror. She hasn't seen Adam since February, and she's actually not sure she wants him to see her now, like this. Lobster red might look cute on, well,_ lobsters_. But it's not a great look on her. It's superficial, and she knows it - even feels a bit ashamed for it. But..."Yeah, I'm sure. You go on."

"Well, we'll miss you on the boat. Maybe another time?"

"Definitely another time," Belle agrees.

* * *

It's not quite five after one, and the phone in Belle's cubicle is already ringing as she returns from lunch. She jogs the last few steps to the desk and scoops up the receiver on what is probably the last ring. Jane in the art department wants to know if she's had a chance to proofread that new manuscript, the one about the mischievous baby gorilla. Belle promises to have the proofs to her by the end of the week. And just as she hangs up, the phone rings again. Only this time, it's her cell. And the caller isn't Jane, but Adam.

"I know it's a bit last minute," he says apologetically, "but my buddy Naveen is having a Halloween party tonight. His place looks out over 6th Ave, so it's got a great view of the parade. Do you want to meet me there?" Belle hasn't made any plans for Halloween this year - heck, she's been so busy at work that she hasn't even had time to think about a costume - so she readily agrees. "Awesome," says Adam. "The party starts at 6. The address is 60 West 12th Street. It's an old brownstone near the corner of 12th and 6th Ave."

"Okay," says Belle, jotting the address down on a Post-it. "What apartment number?"

"No apartment number."

It takes a moment for her to catch his meaning. "You mean the whole _building_ belongs to him?"

"Well, to his parents, technically. But yeah." For not the first time, she wonders what kind of a crowd Adam runs with.

Adam isn't there when Belle arrives at the swanky brownstone, but it seems that his friends have been expecting her. Naveen himself greets her at the front door, dressed in an adult-sized frog onesie. A plastic crown is perched at a jaunty angle on his head. The getup would look ridiculous on anyone else, Belle thinks, but he somehow seems to make it work.

"Belle!" he cries when she introduces herself, bypassing the hand that she sticks out and instead pulling her in for a hug. Further down the narrow hallway, she can hear music and the sounds of people mingling. "Tiana!" he calls in the direction of the kitchen. "Belle is here!"

At that, a beautiful girl comes hurrying into the foyer. She's wearing a sparkly green flapper's dress, and her dark hair is arranged in glamorous looking waves. Her face breaks into a warm smile as she, too, hurries forward to hug Belle. "So _you're_ the mystery woman who Adam's been telling us so much about," she says.

"_Mystery woman_?" Belle repeats, though her brain is currently stuck on the part where Adam has apparently told his friends about her.

Naveen laughs sheepishly. "Well yes, you see, none of us have ever met you till now, so we were starting to think that he might have made you up. A figment of his imagination, you know?"

"Either that or he was too embarrassed by us to bring you around," Tiana interjects dryly.

"This is sadly not out of the question," Naveen admits with a shameless grin.

But as he leads her into the living room to introduce her to the other guests, Belle can't imagine why that would be. Sure, the guy named Shang seems a bit overly serious, and his friend Eugene keeps making weird faces at her. But Tiana's bestie, Lottie, might be the friendliest person Belle has ever met. She's positively delighted to learn that Belle works for a children's book imprint. "I just_ love_ a good fairy tale," she gushes. And when she finds out that Belle came to the party straight from work, _sans_ costume, she offers the sash and tiara from her own elaborate ensemble. "Please, sugar," she says, when Belle protests. "It's not like anyone is going to have trouble figuring out what I am." She gives a little twirl in her voluminous pink ball gown, and Belle has to admit that she's probably got a point.

They all go up to the roof when the parade starts to pass 12th Street. It's a little chilly, but the view can't be beat, and Belle is having so much fun watching all of the costumed revelers pass by that she doesn't even notice that Adam is still missing.

Until her phone rings. It's him, finally. "Adam?" she says, moving to a less crowded part of the roof as she picks up. "Where are you? Is everything okay? Your friends have been asking for you."

"Hey, Belle," says Adam. His voice is nearly drowned out by the sirens wailing in the background, but she can still hear the frustration in it. "I'm fine, but I'm a little...held up at the moment. My Uber got into a fender bender with a minivan full of Ruth Bader Ginsburgs."

"Oh no, is anyone hurt?" She sees Naveen and Shang exchange worried glances at this, and she gestures with her hand to indicate that Adam is okay.

"Everyone's fine. But they want me to stick around until the police come so that I can give a witness statement."

"How long do you think that will take?"

"I'm not sure. The cops are apparently having some trouble getting through the crowds. But I'll be there as soon as I can, I promise."

But Adam still hasn't shown by the time they all head back downstairs. And Belle has to be up early for work the next day. She waits until 10:30 for him, and then decides to call it a night.

His friends bid her goodbye, but not before extracting a promise from her to not be a stranger. As she hugs Lottie and Tiana, it occurs to her that she's now officially spent more time with Adam's friends than she's ever spent with him.

* * *

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" Belle's father's face looks back at her from the screen of her phone, a worried frown deepening the lines around his eyes and mouth.

"Me?" Belle asks with a laugh. "Papa, you're the one who's snowed in!"

"I know, but I just don't like the idea of you spending Christmas alone. At least I've got Philippe here with me." There's a gentle _woof_ from her father's side of the call, and then a furry little face and shiny black nose sneak into the frame. Her father pats the dog gently on the head, and Philippe settles down. "If I had only booked my flight a day or two earlier...," he trails off, shaking his head.

"It's not your fault. And besides, I'll be _fine_. I promise. I've got _A Christmas Story_ playing on repeat, a big batch of Mom's favorite gingerbread, and the world's smallest turkey already stuffed and cooking in the oven. I've got everything covered."

"Everything?" her father says, tugging at his mustache.

"Everything," Belle assures him. "See?" She pans her phone along the kitchen counter to show him what a gourmet Christmas dinner for one looks like. "I've got the potatoes, the green beans, the gravy, the cran - w_ait._" She pauses, frowning at the empty space next to the jar of gravy. "Where are the cranberries?" She thinks for a moment, and then smacks her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Oh, _damn!_"

"What's wrong?" her father asks, with renewed worry in his voice.

"It's nothing. I just realized I forgot to get the cranberries. Ugh, I don't believe it!" She peeks into the oven and checks the temperature of the turkey - it's still got at least an hour to go, maybe more. She hurries over to her laptop and runs a search on the local grocery stores. There's got to be a bodega or something in the area that's still open. _Aha_! The A&P at Union Square is open for another forty-five minutes.

"I'm sorry, Papa, but I've got to go," says Belle, hastily pulling on her boots. "I've got to get to the grocery store before they close."

"Then you'd better hurry," says her father. "Will you call me tomorrow?"

"Of course I will. Merry Christmas Eve, Papa! I love you!"

"I love you too, Belle. Merry Christmas Eve!"

After a mad dash to 14th Street and an even madder dash through the produce aisle of the A&P, Belle finally has a chance to catch her breath as she gets in the checkout line. There's only one cashier on duty by this point, but Belle is comforted to see that she's not the only knucklehead scrambling to pick up some forgotten item before the stores close for the holiday. As she shuffles closer to the register with her fellow last-minute shoppers, she feels a hand on her shoulder, and a voice that sounds strangely familiar says, "Belle, is that you?"

She turns, and what to her wondering eyes should appear but the very last person she expects to see right now, standing behind her and grinning stupidly. "Adam!" she exclaims. "What are _you_ doing here?"

He shrugs. "My folks went out to the Alps for Christmas, but I have an interview for a summer clerkship in the DA's office on the 26th. I figured it didn't make sense to go all that way just for two days, so...I'm flying solo this year."

"Me too," says Belle. "But why are you -" Her gaze drops to the bag in his hands, and she breaks off, laughing.

For a moment, Adam looks confused. But then Belle holds up _her_ bag, and suddenly he's laughing too. "You mean, _you_ forgot cranberries too?"

Belle smiles shyly at him. "You know, I've already got my turkey in the oven. It should almost be done by the time I get home. I wouldn't mind the company...if you wanted to come over for dinner? We can fly solo together."

"Really?"

"Really."

Adam smiles back at her. "Well, _yeah_. I'd love that. But if you're doing the cooking, then here," he says, motioning for her to hand her groceries over. "The cranberries are on me."


End file.
